Savior
by kercherrymoo
Summary: He saved her…. But why? Sting x Lucy. Takes place during the Grand Magic Games
1. Part 1

**Savoir**

He saved her…. But why? Sting x Lucy. Takes place during the Grand Magic Games.

* * *

 **Part 1**

The whole labyrinth was _moving_.

Gray's hand shot out, closing tightly around Lucy's wrist. A startled yelp blew past her lips, her surprised brown eyes locking onto his steely black ones. She was starting to slide, moving closer to just one of the thousands of precarious edges and ledges of the labyrinth that constituted as the preliminary round of the Grand Magic Games. Gray's grip steadied her, and she sent a grateful smile in his direction.

Confusion and panicked shouts filled the air, rising above the gyrating noise of mechanisms and gears churning as the labyrinth turned.

"I don't like this…"

"What the heck is going on?"

"The ground's moving… well not technically…"

"The labyrinth itself is rotating!"

Already, Lucy could see other less-aware and slower-to-react opposing teams and their members begin to fall, plummeting to the ground, and to their elimination from the round.

She felt Gray's iron grip on her arm loosen. She whipped around, her fear-filled wild eyes catching sight of his turned back, his attention elsewhere. Dimly, she heard his voice shouting at Erza, trying to be heard over the racket.

Horror expanded through her chest as she realized she was starting to slide again. Due to the labyrinth's rotation, the ledge was at a steeper incline than before. Combined with Gray's weakened grip, she didn't stand a chance. The arm that Gray was still semi-gripping was held at an awkward angle, enough so that she couldn't twist her wrist to grip his.

"Gray!" She choked out.

His gaze returned to meet hers, the sudden realization that she was slipping – actually both of them were slipping - flashed like lightning in his eyes. His grip on Lucy tightened exponentially, nearly cutting off her circulation, and she gave a small yelp of pain. He lunged backward towards the opposite side of ledge, yanking Lucy with him, his free hand catching the side. The ledge was now situated at a 45 degree angle and was steepening with every passing second.

"Hold on to me Luce!" He shouted.

His lunging motion had nearly ripped her arm from its socket, and a dull burning pain was flaring brightly in her shoulder.

The ledge was now nearly at a vertical position, and the only thing keeping her from free falling was Gray's one-handed grip. Erza was shouting something, but her words were lost over the commotion.

Lucy risked a look down below her. The bottom of the circular globe of the labyrinth had to be miles away. She felt sick with nausea and dizziness; the idea of falling that length was much to horrifying. She lifted her head, her gaze returning to Gray. His face had turned white with his effort at supporting both himself and Lucy with a single hand. Sweat was starting to trickle down his face, and Lucy could feel his grip begin to slacken again, whether from the effort or the hand sweat she wasn't sure.

It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, or afraid of free-falling. She had purposely thrown herself off a building dozens of stories high in the fight against Phantom Lord, knowing, trusting, that Natsu had been there to catch her. But this was different. A fall now, although technically pretty safe with the magical barrier (though Lucy wondered briefly what would happen if one fell and cracked their head on a passing ledge) would mean the end of Fairy Tail's comeback. It wasn't a fear of falling; it was a fear of _failing_. Failing her friends, yet again.

Not an option. It wasn't going to happen. Not this time.

She cast a desperate look around. The was a nearby ledge that was nearing an almost perfect horizontal position. If Gray could maybe swing or throw her in that direction…

"Gray! That ledge!"

He followed her gaze, and sensing her idea, nodded mutely in agreement, his facial features tight with strain. He inhaled sharply, tensing his muscles, preparing to basically throw Lucy towards the nearby ledge.

It happened so fast, neither Gray nor Lucy were completely sure what had transpired. Maybe he had tried readjusting his grip on her and failed, or maybe his arm muscles had just given out. Whatever it was, she was in his grip one minute, and she was slipping past his fingers the next.

" _NO! LUCY!"_

She was free-falling. A terrified scream clawed its way out of her throat as she plummeted.

This was it.

She could almost taste the disappointment of the guild.

It was all her fault.

She should have been more self-sufficient, more of a powerful wizard…

Should have been more aware and found a safer ledge and-

 _WHAM_

Something hard collided with her, knocking the air out of her lungs and left her ribs screaming in protest. Another collision followed shortly afterwards, her whole body landing on a rough surface – somewhere in the back of her mind she recognized this as the ground – this time sending a jarring impact through her back, her head smacking painfully against something hard and blurring her vision for several moments.

Dazed, Lucy tried to get her bearings. Her stomach was churning so furiously she thought she might vomit. Faintly, she took into account a large presence and heavy weight bearing down on her, while the cold gravelly ground supported her back. Her eyesight slowly began to clear up, and a blurry figure swarm into view.

She could make out brilliant blue eyes peering down at her. Everything else appeared shadowed, whether a trick of the light or her muddied brain and vision, Lucy couldn't tell.

She opened her mouth, sucked in a great lungful of air, and let a low moan of pain escape past her lips. Everything _hurt_. Her shoulder was still burning from Gray's yanking, and now it was coupled by protesting ribs, numerous scrapes on her skin, and a throbbing head.

As something moved against her skull, she realized that her head was being cradled by warm hands. They delicately wormed out from behind her, slowly and gently letting her head come to rest against the ground.

Blinking furiously in an attempt to clear up her vision, she focused in on her rescuer. Slowly but surely, his facial features swam into view.

Clarity brought a vision of familiar wispy blonde hair.

 _No. way._

She sucked in a surprised, almost horrified, gasp.

 _Sting Eucliffe, one of the twin-dragon slayers of the rival Sabertooth guild, was staring down at her._

"Let go of me Lucy." He murmured softly, his hot breath fanning over her face. His face was maybe, at most, a foot away from her. His voice, previously always chalk full of arrogance and cockiness, was now soothing and gentle.

At his words, she noticed her hands were fisted in the fur vest he always wore.

"So-sorry!" She squeaked, immediately releasing her grip.

He immediately pushed himself up, and Lucy, reddening, realized his body had been covering hers.

"STING." A voice called out. It sounded suspiciously like Rogue, the other half of the Twin Dragon team.

She sat up quickly – much too quickly – and the world unfocused once again. Her head spun and the urge to upchuck the contents of her stomach returned.

Thankfully, her eyes returned to her much faster than before; quick enough to catch the almost imperceptible moment Sting made towards her – _was he moving to help her? –_ but he seemed to catch himself, and he merely eyed her with an undecipherable look.

Her gaze slid past him then, noticing the four figures standing a ways away on a different ledge. They were the remaining members of the Sabertooth team. It was obvious they all had witnessed the events that has just transpired.

"Come on Sting." Rogue called again. His face was stoic, and his eyes narrowed in accusation, flickering between Sting and her.

Sting was turned away from her, so his voice carried the wrong direction, and Lucy almost missed his next words.

"It's not personal, just business."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. _What was he…?_ Her gaze followed him as he rejoined his teammates. His back turned to her, she missed the motion of him slipping something over to Rufus. Only when Rufus sent her a smirk, paired with a tip of his ridiculous hat, did she notice the slip of paper he was clutching.

Her hands flew to her pockets, and abject horror flooded her when she realized that they were empty.

" _just business."_

Sting had stolen Fairy Tail's map of the labyrinth.

Erza was going to kill her.


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

* * *

 _End of Day 1_

Lucy finds herself at the edge of Crocus, a little lost and very much alone. It's almost midnight, bringing the first official day of the Grand Magic Games to an end.

The rest of her guild were busy drowning themselves in the alcohol, so she had stepped out.

 _A bit of relaxing fresh air_ , she had explained, trying to placate an anxious looking Natsu, _something to clear her mind_. When he had opened his mouth to protest, or suggest he go along too, she had shaken her head. _Alone_.

She kicked a pebble angrily, watching it skitter across the cobblestone street. Well, her mind was horribly clear now, enough to feel the heavy guilt eating her from the inside out from today's loss.

How had Urana Metria not had any effect at all? Especially with her and Gemini's combined force - it just didn't make sense.

A door up ahead bangs open, breaking her from her reverie. Light pours out from the pub onto the dark street, and loud, slurred male voices filled the night air.

Suddenly hyperaware of the fact that she was alone and okay-maybe-more-than-a-little-lost in an unfamiliar part of town, Lucy recoils nervously from the sound, sidestepping into the looming shadows of the buildings, praying they concealed her. Drunk men were the last thing she wanted to deal with tonight. She reaches for her keys and grasps at empty air. She squeezes her eyes shut, mentally banging her head against a wall, cursing herself for not taking her keys with her.

 _Unprotected. Alone. Lost…_

 _Stupid, stupid stupid_ –

"Lucy."

Her eyes fly open in surprise. She'd recognize that voice anywhere – it's the one that has been haunting her since yesterday.

He's there, leaning casually against a building, several feet away, as if he had been standing there the entire time. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his blonde hair illuminated by dim the streetlights. The fur vest he wears ripples in the night air.

Despite his casual positioning, his eyebrows are drawn together, and his mouth set in a thin, hard line. He tilts his head, as if beckoning her to follow him.

She hesitates for a second, before stepping towards him.

A large, rational part of her brain recognizes that following Sting is a bad, bad, bad idea. Maybe even worse than being alone. But a small part of her soothes at his presence. The recognition of such a thought makes her recoil inwardly with horror, and she squashes the feeling instantly.

They walk for several blocks in tense silence with him leading. He walks leisurely, but deliberately, each step a purposeful movement full of control and grace. His long legs allow him long strides, but his deliberately slow walk pace allows her to keep up.

He speaks first, and she struggles to hear him, even with him only a step or two in front of her. "This part of town isn't safe for you, little fairy. Tigers prowl these parts." He says, quietly, his tone carefully neutral.

"How did you find me?" She blurts out, unable to stop herself.

She wanted to slap herself the moment the words left her mouth. Gods, where were any of her manners, no thank you, no –

"Shadows talk."

The sudden thought of shadows talking sends a shiver trailing down her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms. She wonders what else Rogue has seen.

The questions burn in Lucy's throat, and she aches to ask them, desperately needing some answers, but unable to speak. The next three blocks are spent in tense silence as she struggles to find the words.

Finally, she just stops walking. It takes him only a single step to notice she isn't following him. He turns halfway to look back at her, eyes narrowed and a frown forming on his lips.

She takes a second to admire his side profile, illuminated by the moonlight. He was unfairly beautiful. She was sure he knew it too.

"Why did you save me? Why are you … helping me?" She whispers abruptly.

His jaw noticeably tightens, but he avoids her eyes. "My guildmates would rip you to pieces."

"That's just it, isn't it? Why aren't you? Aren't you one of Sabertooth's strongest? Don't they look up to you to set like, the gold standard or something?" She hedges carefully, trying to not let her emotions color her tone. She was treading some potentially dangerous waters here.

His eyes flicker up to meet hers at last, but she couldn't read anything from his gaze. It was horribly frustrating.

"I'm not interested in fighting opponents that are weaker than me for sport." He responds coolly.

"Not enough of a challenge?" She asks bitterly, turning her head away, again recalling her earlier fight with Flare.

She misses Sting's calculating gaze, carefully analyzing her.

"A waste of time and effort, with no benefit for anyone involved. I like to fight to test and showcase my strength but taking on a someone clearly weaker is just cruel."

"How _generous_ of you." She snaps.

He takes a step toward her, closing the distance between them. His height is intimidating, she thinks he must at least have a foot on her. He's so close that she can smell him – sandalwood. He stares at her through thick lashes, his blue gaze hard. "Strength is the only thing that matters in this world, little fairy. Don't delude yourself in thinking otherwise."

"I know that. I know that better than anyone." She bites back angrily, color rising to her cheeks. "But inner strength matters more. It's what separates Fairy Tail from the arrogant, self-serving pricks like you!"

His hard stare intensifies, and he leans closer toward her. They're almost touching noses. "Oh really?" He sneers, "Did that inner strength win you that fight this afternoon?"

She recoils instantly, his words rubbing salt on an already exposed wound. Her gaze slides to the floor, and she is unable to meet his harsh gaze.

Ordinarily, she would have slapped him. Fought back with a retort just as biting, just as ferocious and cutting. But tonight is extraordinary, and she is vulnerable and the truth to his words hurt like hell.

"Come on." He mutters. His voice carries, and she realizes he must have stepped away from her. "We've still got a couple blocks to your hotel."

The rest of the walk back is spent in tense silence.

They turn right onto a familiar street. The hotel is just up ahead, she can already hear loud, familiar voices drifting from an open window. Home.

They stop at the end of the street, as he is clearly willingly to go no further into enemy territory.

She shuffles her feet nervously, before steeling herself and staring up into those icy blue eyes. "Thank you." She offers tentatively, extending an olive branch to relieve some of the horrible tension.

She doesn't miss the flash of surprise that crosses his face before it once again settles into a blank slate. He gives a slow nod of his head, acknowledging her thanks.

She turns away, intending to head home, but he gently clears his throat.

"I speak my mind." He states.

A simple sentence, but she recognizes this as his somewhat twisted and indirect way of apologizing for his scathing remark earlier.

She bites her lip, her mind racing.

She turns back around, a fierce glint in her eyes. "You didn't need it. Our map. You didn't need it. It wouldn't have helped you. It was barely started. We hadn't even begun compiling any of the other teams' maps."

His face is as impassive as ever, and she presses on.

"You needed a justification. A justifiable reason to give to save me. But it was an afterthought. You saved me first. Why, Sting, _why_?" Her last words come out laced with desperation, needing an answer.

When he doesn't offer an answer, she gets angry. "Answer me, damnit!" She shrieks, somewhat hysterical, unable to deal with unknowning. She lashes out, aiming to punch him, slap him, something – anything, to get him to respond.

He catches her arm halfway, his fingers wrapping firmly around her wrist.

She inhales sharply; His touch is electric. Their contact is simple, but it's the most intimate thing she has ever partaken in. And she knows he feels it too.

Lucy doesn't know how long they stand there, touching, staring at each other - it might have been only a minute - but it felt like infinity.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, but she swears she hears a roughness to it. "Maybe I think you're someone worth saving."

Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out, her mind swept clean by his answer. He slowly unwraps his fingers, and her wrist falls limply to her side.

"Goodbye Lucy." He whispers it like a promise, but her mind is unable to process what kind of promise he could be making. He turns and disappears into the night.

She's left, mind reeling and standing alone in the street.


	3. Part 3

Part 3

She dreams of him that night.

* * *

She's tucked safely into his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She's trembling, a dark fear of something unknown twisting inside of her. His arms tighten, sensing her weakness.

He leans down, whispering in her ear, his breathe tickling. "You're safe with me." He promises.

She looks up at him. His crystal blue eyes are bright and honest, and he meet her eyes unflinchingly, but there's a certain tightness and tension in his face betrays his fury.

"I won't let them take you," He speaks earnestly, pressing his lips against her forehead. Her forehead tingles.

It takes a while before his words sink in.

 _Whose going to take me?_ She wonders, but her body is unresponsive and the question never comes.

She notices then his shoulder, a protruding arrow tip, and the blood slowly staining his shirt. Slowly, in a daze, she reaches up and touches it, her fingers coming away red.

Her mind feels sluggish, slow to process, and she cannot understand what is happening.

Glancing away from her hand, she looks back at Sting. His lips thin out and his shoulders stiffen, but his face reads as relatively unconcerned. His hand comes up to cover hers, either as a gesture of affection or to hide the blood, she wasn't sure.

"I love you." He says it casually, like he's said it a hundred times over.

There's no surprise to his declaration, only a gentle swelling of emotion and a recognition that this statement was familiar to her.

His brings his forehead to touch hers, his eyes closing. "You're mine, Princess." His voice was rough, thick with emotion. "In this life, and all others, you belong to me."

A roar fills the air around them, breaking the moment.

He whirls around, his back now to her, pushing her protectively behind him. She watches with a fascinated horror as another metal arrow sinks solidly into his chest.

 _He knew it was coming,_ she realizes. How he knew, she had no idea. But before she could even react, he's yanked the arrow out and tossed it aside like a child's toy.

She looks up for the first time, finally able to see her surroundings.

A small humanoid creature stands several meters away, longbow drawn, and an arrow notched pointing directly at Sting. Their appearance is warped, and she cannot make out any identifying features besides a large pair of wings. Above it, soars a large Red Dragon, with large menacing black eyes.

It lets out another challenging roar.

Her gaze swivels back toward Sting, who has stepped away from her, prepped in an attack stance with his magic swirling viciously around him. He's engulfed in a blinding white light that dies a minute later to reveal a White Dragon that launches in the air. She instinctively knows it's a physical manifestation of Sting's soul.

The two dragons charge each other, bodies slamming together in a mass of teeth and claws.

She wants to scream, to stop this bloodshed. Inherently, she knows that this battle is wrong, that these dragons should not be fighting each other. But she cannot move.

A thud of another arrow, this time landing solidly between her feet. She stares down at it with surprise. The floor beneath her cracks – had she always been standing on glass?

She looks up in time to see the Red Dragon being thrown to the ground, to hear the victorious call of the White Dragon. She sees him turn to look for her, and she meets his eyes right as the glass floor shatters and she plummets down into the darkness.

 ** _LUCY!_**

* * *

She wakes up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating, her ears still ringing with his screams.

It isn't until the rays of sunlight filter through her hotel room that she's able to calm down enough and begin to doze off again.

Moments before her mind gives way to sleep, she faintly recalls seeing a slender tail on the humanoid archer.

It won't be until Natsu shakes her awake hours later that she recognizes the familiar eyes of the Red Dragon.

It will take her another three hours that Lucy, pausing to stare at her guild mark on her hand, realizes that, fairies do, in fact, have tails.


End file.
